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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474803">The Baddest Bad Boys On TikTok</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropout_ninja/pseuds/dropout_ninja'>dropout_ninja</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Violence, Is now I guess, Terrible TikTok Use, TikTok, Uncool Tarn, ie references to the DJDs careers, is that a tag yet?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:35:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropout_ninja/pseuds/dropout_ninja</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Secret Solenoid for Vos@metalposterior on twitter/E512 on tumblr </p><p>There would be no subversion of the cause on his watch...even if it meant monitoring whatever nonsense the dregs of the army found entertaining.<br/>(Or: the one in which Tarn takes himself very seriously, but everyone else can see this is crack)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Secret Solenoid '20-'21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the prompt: Uncool Tarn trying to understand tiktok, for Vos@metalposterior.  I hope you enjoy!<br/>Warning for implied or referenced murder, general TikTok-ness, a rampant misuse of parenthesis's, and the author having no idea what they were doing while making most of this.<br/>I've never written for the DJD (or IDW in general) before, so, crack or not, I do hope I did them justice (ey? ey? ...I'll just let myself out now)<br/>(Also, shout out to Marfacat for inspiring quite a bit of the events inside the fic!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had started with Helex.</p><p>Well, not truly.  To go to the true root, it had started with <em> aliens</em>.  That, if the mental addition of dramatic textual presentation was to go by, should have been enough to give pause to whatever had and would come next.  One would have thought that alone should have been enough to prevent this entire...There wasn't a very sophisticated word for it at the moment.  Affair, he supposed.  That fit.  Yes- the fact that it had been some organic alien creation on a planet named after its own dirt that stood in annoying opposition to Lord Megatron's path should have been enough to have prevented this entire affair.  </p><p>There had always been something pervasive about entertainment, however.  And it had hardly been Helex's fault that he'd been the one caught watching it when he was the one with the most official control over their workplace tablet, no more than it had been Kaon's fault that his job was to monitor decepticon communication for anything of note and had just so happened upon <em> this </em> something of note in particular.  </p><p>Tarn had first caught sight of this new platform for potential subversive material when noting Helex, Vos, and Nickel all giving undue attention to their official workplace portable tablet.  Unlike PDPs and other administrivia, the device mostly found official work in playing the Empyrean Suite during <em>working hours</em> and so seeing it in the hands of his subordinates when on Messatine or the <em>Peaceful Tyranny </em>for entertainment was common enough; with those like Tesarus aboard, boredom between jobs wasn't easily alleviated by filing and other such necessary administrative busy work.  What purposes it found its use for, Tarn mostly let it be.  Monitored it, yes, but didn't make such monitoring obvious to anyone.  It could hardly draw any sort of rightful ire from any of the team if they did notice regardless.  Tarn didn't- well.  He didn't like it when the team felt he'd done anything worth drawing ire over.  Normally, that would drop words and ideals over what <em>was</em> <em>decepticon</em> and what <em>was not decepticon</em> and Tarn wouldn't stand for being called (or inferred, or politely inferred) someone ignorant to what <em>decepticon</em> entirely entailed.  </p><p>Whatever this was they were doing?</p><p>Not decepticon.  Not inherent treason, but he did not approve of it.  In fairness (justice was fair if proper justice and Tarn would like to consider himself just in how he treated the others), the trio he'd taken note of didn't seem approving of what they were watching either.  Helex was frowning, lower arms crossed.  Nickel outwardly was giving more attention to him than the screen itself with an expression he'd learned to decipher was flat amusement.  Vos was harder to read; not just for his mask, but his still rather recent addition to the team relatively speaking.</p><p>Curiosity had him ceasing thought on what updates he would be making to his own PDP in order to tune into the noises around.  First to note: some dimmed noises (he'd call it a racket if it wasn't dim enough to dampen the description) that, after a moment, he realized was some form of music.  Music emanating from the portable device wasn't odd.  Or it wouldn't have been should it have been recognizable music.  This was nothing he'd heard before.  Certainly not the Empyrean Suite, heard and overheard, played and played to death.  Neither was it <em> Aerinus's Finest </em> or the collection of Modulator's preserved orchestra works or any of the like.  Those were hardly shared to traitors during working hours, but Tarn thought the files's presence on more than just his own private devices would encourage his teammates to listen and experience excellency as well rather than just ignoring his tastes and listening to what they liked.  There was a reward to music, to the elevation of oneself based on their taste in the cultured or slag.  </p><p>This?  He didn't recognize the tune, which had briefly after he'd first noticed it switched to another musical thread that seemed to hold no consistency with the last.  Such an awkward transition left him curling a lip in distaste behind his mask; but such distaste was not enough, evidently, as this second tune cut off and was replaced by another set of sounds after only seconds.  All remained unrecognizable in origin, date, and make.  And all were still, despite lacking this information, quite easily recognized, however unrecognizable, as uncultured.  This would not do.  And the rattled repetition of cognition would not do either, which meant the blame for such internal confusion needed explanation or simply must go.  Judging by the rapid firing, shocking and brittle transiting of supposed music, the latter was his preferred solution.  </p><p>But second to the music came the other noises.  Mainly, words.  Some came tinny from the same source as the music did and, from the way it played during such melody, was a part of the 'songs' themselves.  This struck him as unusual.  Though there were always the exceptions, cybertronian music was mostly wordless.  It sometimes struck him as a shame, considering that he could have found a place in any musicians group without needing skill with any instrument or synthesizing programs.  When one had a voice to die for, singing held its own against the lyrical qualities of instruments alone.  Most of the works he kept for collection and personal enjoyment remained solely outside the realm of voice.  Ah, but this?  This was...</p><p><em> Grating </em> was the first word to spring to mind.  Perhaps that was based on the inconsistencies of it all.  If the damn music would stop switching around like this-- Some of the voices were pleasant, some were high whines, some were filtered into unpleasantness, all were nonsensical.  Whatever dialect this was, it was as alien to understanding as Vos's words must be to some.</p><p>More than a bit curious (if just to find the source of pain in a fledgling headache), Tarn approached until he could join the other three in observing--</p><p>Observing what, exactly?</p><p>The audial function was not alone; there was video footage as well.  And it seemed...as nonsensical as all the sounds had been.  For a few seconds, it was a cybertronian of unrecognizable origin seemingly dancing around alone to one set of upbeat instruments.  Then, it was another, face close up, glancing away and back while mouthing occasionally as little gray boxes of text appeared on different parts of the screen.  Seconds of this was evidently enough, as the footage changed to--a cybertronian-looking organic??  </p><p>The shock of it was enough to make those few seconds pass without even noting what the alien was doing.  The next set of footage was a decepticon, which at least added no new surprises for Tarn to decipher.  And yet more flashing, nonsensical videos of cybertronian (of all factions) and aliens alike passed by before he even managed to ask a question on it.  </p><p>"Kaon's been noticing these passing around the big lines," Helex answered absently enough.  His attention was evidently sealed on the various chaos that kept passing by.  "You know, forums, media, whatnot.  The Big Conversation."</p><p>That did not answer why the formatted videos were so short or indecipherable or full of aliens.  What sort of decepticon social media network allowed -they didn't- they <em> didn't-- </em>Oh, Lord Megatron would not be pleased with any such influx of attention offered to fleshy creations or autobots.  </p><p>Ah, but that answer came soon enough from those he was questioning.  Seemingly only fully noticing him now, the explanation came more thoroughly and guardedly and full of subtle promises that none of the DJD would ever sit around watching this nonsense for fun.  Oh no.  No, this was for monitoring's sake and insight into what the active members of the decepticon cause were devoting attention to.  This was acceptable enough.  Yes.  He'd leave them here and return to his own room.  Perhaps he would turn on a bit of <em> real </em> culture while working over his PDP.  Something soft, melodical.  Yes, an orchestra piece of old would do well enough to remove the stain of this musical chaos he'd been subjected to while watching this alien-imported, cybertronian-remade <em> tick-tock </em> fad.  As all former, similar fads, it would fade and he would move this short encounter to some unused corner of memory.  If some decepticons did not understand that it was meant to fade, well.  They would just need a small reminder that decepticons did not humiliate themselves by staining their existence as a cybertronian with organic modelling.  </p><p>Plan set, Tarn finally tore his attention away from the strange furry thing on screen and its fur-less counterpart that was doing something to the sleeping fleshanimal's head-</p><p>Breaking the attitude they'd fallen into after he'd ceased questioning the worth of their time here (as in, stiff professional we-are-not-amused-just-working-for-works-sake), the others audibly uttered disgust.  Or the smelter did, at any rate; he was loud enough to cover any sounds the others may have made.</p><p>"In its mouth?" Helex protested while the fleshanimal’s head backed away from the fleshy’s mouth on film.</p><p>Tarn had to agree with such a sentiment.  There was health to consider, there was, there was, but, no.  Simply, no.  </p><p>"Like you're one to talk," Nickel said pointedly up at the smelter.</p><p>Before he was present for yet another dressing down over mouth hygiene from the medic to the giant (he'd witnessed enough of those), Tarn slipped away.  </p><p>As planned, he found his quarters and sat to relax.  </p><p>Not as planned, no relaxing or even work actually happened.  </p><p>Despite rationale telling him he'd witnessed work that the others were dealing with and who would pass in as filework when surveillance finished and conclusions were made, and hardly needed his involvement, Tarn was unsettled.   </p><p>A set of messages to Kaon found the date when this fad had first surfaced.  It was earlier than he'd have expected for something short lived and then forcefully forgotten.  And (unlike Tesarus, who still protested at having to do any of the filework his jobs around the ship required, or Vos, who wrote in primal vernacular that added just the slightest frustration to any overview because of the extra work now necessary for translations) Helex was punctual enough in sending in his own report detailing what he'd grasped from this new fad and the list of recognized decepticons that he'd witnessed on it (just in case Lord Megatron expressed distaste for the organic-based activity or Tarn felt matters deserved his preemptive call) while 'surveying' the activity.  </p><p>A surge in these videos, as based on an 'app' inside the more popular decepticon forums, had begun too long ago for comfort and the amount of contributors had only exponentially grown even as some of the 'original' clips from the dirty planet of fleshlings also passed around cybertronian channels in popularity.  Based on this overview from Helex, Tarn felt an unwanted conclusion creeping towards him.  </p><p>This may be a fad, but it hadn't fizzled quickly enough.  He would do more than just read the brief reports of his mechs.  The Cause needed to have a close watch kept on its instruments (members).  If he was to see what this app promoted, predict its rate of growth in popularity or decline in use, and determine whether action was needed- and what that action ought be-, then he would have to look into it himself.  It wasn't fair to increase the workload his team had when he could take on a few extra tasks.  </p><p>Once determined to not ignore the oddity and instead face it head on, Tarn found himself interested enough to settle on his couch with his door sealed and his speakers softly serenading the upcoming search for details. </p><p>And so he found this peace in his room and began <em> research</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*PDPs: Personal Development Plans, mtmte issue #39</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Search For Knowledge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was not a short lived fad.</p><p>It had yet to die and official decepticon opinion had yet to declare it criminal.</p><p>It <em> made no sense. </em></p><p>That may have been the most aggravating piece about it.  Yes, at the start Tarn had mostly been mad over the inanity of it all; just another addition to the obviously short lived and classless forms of entertainment the cogs of the army borrowed from their enemies or neutrals and dropped shortly after.  What was the point of borrowing culture or- humor? (it was humor, he was starting to determine) from the inconsequential or the doomed?  There was plenty of good culture and humor accessible to any interested cybertronian.  “Towards Peace”, for one.  Any of them could read it.  Perhaps not a first edition copy like Tarn could, but there was access regardless.  And there were still many plays of noted quality recorded and filed away under decepticon forums.  Film, play, music, art, writings.  Culture.  And there was comedy inside some of that.  Classy, sophisticated, comprehensible comedy.  They had more than enough.  If every cybertronian just bothered to look at such, they would undoubtedly understand that their future lay with the Cause and they would be many steps closer to achieving peace.  So why?  Why borrow?  Why repurpose and share?  </p><p>Sadly, the only answer the universe bothered to give him was that<em> they just did. </em> Did they need to?  Did they consider the implications?  Was there some encoded appeal that just wasn't bared yet?   He didn't know.  Perhaps there was nothing to supply such explanations.  Perhaps searching was a fool's errand.</p><p>He searched anyway.  </p><p>If Tarn was anything outside of being <em> Tarn, the feared hand of justice for the Cause </em> , it was a bit of a self-proclaimed mild connoisseur.  He analyzed the arts.  He had a healthy respect for them that translated into enjoyment.  And he analyzed groups, people, and determined a simple fact: the intake did in turn become the output.  As sad as it was (it was certainly not helping anyone achieve Megatron's outlined peace), traitors existed.  New ones chose their faulty path and old ones survived another day until reckoning arrived.  Why?  It was not necessarily their job to know.  But Tarn wondered often about the question of intake and media and if sites like The Big Conversation promoted more traitorous thought or cowardice.  Platforms for subversive material could not be accepted, and yet- it wasn't his place to say such.  This newest platform to seemingly sweep up interested users, this-this- <em> TikTok </em>- could be used as such too easily.  Improper spread of catchy ideas- in the form of lyrics or jokes- could undermine the authority of the Cause and its leader.  So for the sake of preventing or predicting traitors preemptively, Tarn looked.  And for the sake of the arts.  Because, as a self-proclaimed mild connoisseur of the arts, he recognized that TikTok produced nothing that could be called such and was instead full of- of- it was an insult to the very idea of acting and song!  And it was sometimes done purposefully.  Wonderful pieces were distorted or remade and filtered and ruined, just utterly ruined, in blatantly purposeful disrespect for the sake of...comedy?  Comedy, he was assuming for now.  It was still too early in this research to say for certain.  </p><p>If this was going to be allowed among the ranks, then he would understand it passively.  Just in case.  If he understood the platform, he could monitor it offhand and catch sight of any problematic content growing too popular (he found a word for such a thing: a meme.  Going viral.  The clunky new phrasing was as inane as the app itself).  The masses may latch on to a current trend without considering the subtle insipid ways it was slipping past their mind to indoctrinate them.  Even innocently stupid, loyal decepticons could film themselves following along with popular a trend without even realizing that it was promoting traitorous behavior or thought.  And yet, so far, he had not found any examples of a particularly treasonous trend going around.</p><p>But the fact was, he didn't...Well, he wasn't sure he knew <em> what </em> the trends were.  Yet.  Given time, Tarn was sure he would pick them out and therefore sit superior above those users who merely enjoyed the app without putting any consideration into the values promoted or undermined.  In time.  It was certainly not something he could say about himself just yet.  Yes, Tarn was just humble enough to comfortably admit that he couldn't read or see proper insight from this subculture at this moment.</p><p>As odd as it was to be taking any sort of culture from aliens, he'd compromised distaste to poke at the source of his problem here.  The place that had captured so much attention from both associated cybertronian armies during their brawl over what seemed like just another dirty planet, Earth, offered enough insight into TikTok to see its origins, purposes, and success.  See, yes.  Understand...was not equivalent to seeing data factually.  <em> Know thy enemy, </em> one surprisingly intelligent dirt alien’s words circulated in some form or other of quotation.  That was the goal here, wasn't it?  To prevent risk, he'd have to understand this TikTok.  Its trends, its purpose, its biggest users- he'd determine it all and then decide what to do from there.</p><p>Know thy enemy.</p><p>He wouldn't admit it either, but pinning a<em> piece of culture</em> down as <em>an</em> <em>enemy</em> was a little stimulating.  It'd been so long since the war had begun; so long since they'd risen up against culture, arts, used for infernal purposes by those the decepticons had torn down.  There was a certain warfare involved in such.  The DJD's own signature song came in the form of Eucryphia's works, meant originally to celebrate Prima, celebrate Nova, celebrate the archaic poison precursing worse situations for Cybertron; this suite had been played often, praised, during his life before the war.  Praised, played, by those who refused to acknowledge or else reveled in the pain they put those forced outside the welcomed class through.  Ah, but no longer.  No longer at all.  It once spoke to those but now?  Now, it was his.  It was theirs.  A celebration of <em>wrong</em> taken, molded, and made <em>right</em>.</p><p>In some ways, he considered it one of his highest achievements even if his appreciation for the Empyrean Suite itself had dulled.  If it could be done to such a song of the old age, it could be done to this new form of entertainment apparently chosen by the dregs of decepticonism.  </p><p>Mask sitting aside while in the privacy of his own room, Tarn's lips quirked and his attention returned two-fold to researching.  The promise of coming atop this culture as he had the most famous musical work of old had given him newfound excitement for this memetic business.</p><hr/><p>It wasn't strange to hear music when she passed through this hall.  Nickel had constructed a picture of what went on in her commander's quarters based on that fact alone.  Inside the room, there'd be one of those old, gilded and antique jukeboxes (she wasn't imagining that detail, she'd been in everyone's rooms on this ship at some point or other and caught sight of the retro music player) wafting (she couldn't even think of the word with a straight face but it fit the way Tarn talked just fine) through the room while the tankformer lay flopped on an over-large over-plush couch spinning high grade in his favorite goblet and probably talking aloud about some woe or other.  It was her imagination, the nitty details weren't important.</p><p>Point was, she was used to hearing the fancy cybertronian orchestra pieces that Tarn favored when she passed this door.  It wasn't totally stuffy, but Nickel's colony had music with a pretty different flair.  </p><p>Something itched at the back of her helm like a somatic message pinging her that something was out of place.  Fine then, I spy, find the uncanny addition or subtraction to the hall.  Ship still humming?  Walls still purple? Door still-</p><p>Aha.</p><p>The itch dissipated immediately even as her consciousness took a moment longer figuring out <em> what </em> what was different <em> was </em>.</p><p>Nickel slid up to the commander's doorway and increased audial focus.  Yup.  He was playing music all right, just not the typical stuff.</p><p>The imagined picture shattered.  She just couldn't see the flopped lounging and suave spinning of liquid in a cup so long as the music playing was some repetitive blaring on (Nickel found the dialect and translated) and on about 'bad guys' and 'good girls' and...</p><p>The medic continued down the hall without bothering to restrain a bark of laughter.  She never really bothered to restrain any judgement with this group.  That they allowed it unfiltered with amusing protest was probably a large part of why she felt proud to stay with them.  </p><p>Proud of serving the cause and staying the acting medic to the most terrifying decepticons to live, that was.  </p><p>Being proud of knowing said terrifying decepticons spent offtime apparently watching videos attempting to be sexy edgy videos, less so.</p><hr/><p>Here's what he did know.  Originally, it wasn't supposed to be this big, interspecies sensation.  The human websites all said it was meant for music.</p><p>As he watched one cybertronian clip between two (duet? yes, a duet. it was called a duet when they split the video like that; see? he was picking up on this) MTOs, Tarn had to wonder where the music came in.  This specific one was obviously meant for spectacle.  Why else cover faces and bodies and rooms in junk and act just incomprehensible while the song played? And when the video was traced back to its origins (its <em> alien </em> origins), it seemed these MTOs had been mimicking two organics that, fittingly, looked just slightly less revolting when their flesh faces were obscured by snack boxes.  But...But.  What was the point of it?  Evidently, there was some sort of point there.  Enough of one to have spawned these mimicries among cybertronians.  The MTOs hadn't been the only ones to mimic the snack-box humans, even if he hadn't found very many others.  It must not have been famous enough, ‘meme’ enough if that was using <em> their </em> words right, to have more than a niche following of copycats.  </p><p>Back to the point: so the platform had first been intended for music.  Mainly, either original sounds or else 'lip syncing'.  Tarn had seen plenty of those.  Rather than do the simpler thing and just make videos with dialogue, these people would mouth to songs or mouth inaudibly while little text boxes were apparently meant to fill in for sound.  This hadn't been fitting the musical origins purpose.  Why make something for music if it was going to turn into this varied mess?  Evidently, most weren't annoyed by this.  Not based on the popularity of the platform and the praise for it being a source of memes.  </p><p>Still, even those that did fit into that original description seemed pointless to him.  Why bother mouthing to songs when one could sing instead?  With a voice like his, it'd undoubtedly be an improvement to just sing instead rather than keeping to the painful quality of the musicians being used.  Where was the charm in this mimicked reproduction?  And how was it accepted as adaptable from human to cybertronian, when so many cybertronians had mouthguards or masks that would hide the skill of the synchronization?  He could definitely not participate in such when it would require taking his iconic mask off for viewers that didn't deserve to see his face.  </p><p>The fact that he felt more offended at that than someone who had no desire to <em> participate </em> would have felt brought him up short.</p><hr/><p>The next time she noticed it was when she had gone to remind Tarn about a check up.  In many ways, he needed them less than the rest of the crew.  He certainly didn't have the hygiene problems<em> certain others </em> did.  Tarn made up for it by frying his t-cog on the regular and that alone meant regular scans to see at what point the current frying had reached.  They, like her and the rest of the DJD, had a symbiotic relationship: Tarn was an idiot and she had the medical skills to deal with the fallout of various addiction.  It worked out pretty well for her and she enforced that they all kept in shape.</p><p>Normally, Tarn was the one who whined the least over getting check ups.  He tended to be rather excited over them, really (if just for his t-cog's sake).  </p><p>This time, he barely bothered to register her at all.  He certainly didn't get up to head to the partial medbay.  </p><p>Nickel squinted incredulously at the mech where he sat hunched over the company tablet at his desk.  </p><p><em> In a minute? </em>  Did he really just <em> 'in a minute' </em>her?  Obviously, she was getting too lax with this bunch if they thought they could just go around ignoring her and her scanners like this.  </p><p>Oh well.  It was Tarn's t-cog and if it couldn't wait another day, it'd be his fault for being too distracted by twerking extranet strangers.  </p><p>"And here you're the one to always go on about how important your health and safety policy is when the others whine about their appointments," Nickel muttered while she left.  Tarn didn't give any sign he'd heard.  She wouldn’t have pinned him down as the most likely of the group to be enthralled by clunky twerking, but she hadn’t pinned him down as the <em> rudely risking the wrath of the medic </em> type either.</p><hr/><p>Already, he was certain he had gotten most of this in his grasp.  No matter if humans had started the app for music's sake, it was far more vast than that.  There were memes.  There were what seemed to be miniature plays with all parts done by the same person with the same nonvocal textbox dialogue.  Another widely seen popular trend he noted were those "P.O.V." videos (even if he'd ended up talking over those with Nickel when he'd been sitting on the berth in the medbay with his attention on the tablet while she said quite vulgar things about him until she too had been distracted by what he watched; unfortunately, that had entailed some very uncomfortable videos that Tarn felt almost ashamed for exposing Nickel to, no matter if she seemed less than fazed.  Still, afterwards, he'd walked out from the room feeling that he understood P.O.V. videos like any of the other enthralled average decepticons engaging in this supposedly-entertaining activity; if anything, he felt sure he had come up with a few ideas for some that were certainly humorous enough just during that appointment! This TikTok business was hardly a challenge, really).  Yes, Tarn thought: he even knew the names of these trends, he recognized one from the other, and he understood best what this meant.</p><p>(And yes, Nickel had thrown a rag at his mask when he'd tried to show as much, but he felt sure that was just because she was too isolated from the widespread communications world that the extranet provided decepticons; she simply didn't understand, whereas Tarn himself could tell the importance of deciphering the <em> language </em> of the decepticon crowd and therefore making sure the influences present were in the best interests of Lord Megatron)</p><p>And now, with this form of language translated and grasped in his hand, he would police the minds of the crowd until they, like him, thought nothing but loyal thoughts and treason became a stain of the past.</p><p>To think that it only took concentrating on boring, repetitive, bizarre, or plain indecipherable videos to reach such a point.  But it had been reached, he felt proud enough to think.</p><p>Understanding the make and influence, complete.  Next step: casual infiltration.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Operation: Infiltration Of The Kids</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They gathered around at the head of the ship when Tarn called for a group meeting.  The rest filed in promptly with the expectation that they'd either be hearing important news, be picking the next name on the List to target, or be deciding whether to return to Messatine (which Nickel wished they'd do because she had yet to see the infamous home base) or hit a different place for shore and supply leave.  </p><p>Instead, they were met with a Plan.  </p><p>"I don't mean to step out of line, but what purpose would this serve?" Kaon asked in the first pause the presentation offered.  </p><p>Tarn straightened up.</p><p>"Promoting just ideals and the good of the cause!"</p><p>Yes, that part sounded good.  It was more the <em> means </em> being questioned...</p><p>"It's come to my attention that some of you occasionally indulge in this," he started again in a tone that seemed to be attempting to balance between <em> patronizing understanding </em> and <em> death threat.  </em>"If The Big Conversation has been our tool in the past, then I find it likely this can be a tool as well."</p><p>Back he spun to the drawing board, flourishing a hand at his stylized bullet points where they sat on the main screen.  </p><p>"Since some of you are already involved, you likely know what to expect."</p><p>And he felt rather sure he knew what to expect too.  That much Nickel had gathered from a one sided conversation in her medbay over how each video seemed to either be a bland inside joke or "what the others'' (whatever <em> the others </em> meant) called "cringe".  </p><p>He'd said it so proudly she hadn't bothered to fight it.  </p><p>In the meantime, Tarn had started up again.</p><p>"It seems to run on the premise of humor- it's crude, crass, unsophisticated humor to be sure and can compare only poorly to the quality in different revered classic works, but these are those forms of humor that don't require an intellect to find amusing and memorable and thus it's this humor we'll exploit to implant our message into those with such shallow minds."</p><p>Tarn turned around once more to face the rest.  The backlight of the screen kept his frame silhouetted and all that stood out from this dark mass were purple biolights and blazing optics.  It cut a rather impressive picture for someone describing their hope to become influencing popular presence on social media.  </p><p>"So!" the commander clapped once to bring his thrall out of their reverie.  "Let's begin, shall we?"</p><hr/><p>Their first "set" was in the lounge.  The few clips made then were performed by rather uninspired actors.  Between Helex losing all ability for natural movement the moment he was being filmed and the rest not quite grasping that said filming wasn't for their usual snuff film features, it was obviously uncomfortable.</p><p>Ah, but the DJD were nothing if not determined.  </p><p>This being as it was, Tarn's direction led them to far more attempts.  After getting a more acceptable comfortability with this type of camera attention, their enthusiasm even grew right alongside their leader's.  Nickel's enthusiasm for a non-embarrassing finished project faded with each new day, but her own entertainment was another story.  Had she refused to be visible in any?  Oh absolutely.  But she'd be present to observe it all regardless.  </p><p>She was there when Tarn had asked for brainstorming ideas and threw out the chance for anyone to bring any prop they wanted forward to P.O.V. sessions.  (Vos had let out a stream of primal vernacular and gestured enthusiastically at this.  His enthusiasm was answered with a nod of permission and the spindly mech scampered off.  If he returned later dragging along his favorite hole-riddled skull by its spine, no others gave any indication of shock.  Only Nickel stared on flatly.  A part of that vision lay on Vos's grisly comedy item while the rest stared out a thousand yards into the black hole of thought that universally arrived in the vision of those who felt the premonition of disaster edging closer.  At the least, this specific prompt wasn't going to hamper the fear factor of their cultivated image.  If they were banned from the app for breaking content rules, well, they should have considered that before just assuming that its popularity with decepticons meant it was operated and administrated by one.)</p><p>She was there when Kaon had gotten into the argument over using The Pet for their official team TikTok content.  (It had been put forward under the argument that pet videos would 'soften' their online image and make viewers more relaxed and susceptible to their anti-treason pro-Megatron worship message; some brain cell left undistracted by ponderings of 'hot girl shit' caught onto the largest problem with that and Tarn had diplomatically vetoed adding pet videos "for now", since softening their image purposefully would hamper their job as enigmatic and mysterious figures of justice ready to strike at any  sign of treason.  <em> Unintentionally </em> hampering in that way was a different matter, as their completely out-of-tune DJD's hot girl shit video proved.  Kaon had let go of the issue then, although Nickel also caught sight of him posing with the not-a-sparkeater and could bet that, if she had an account, she would be able to hunt down anonymous pet videos of that slobbery thing set to cutesy Earth music.)</p><p>She was there when Tarn posted their first POV: You're A Decepticon Traitor and stood back pleased that it would be seen by the masses with respect and praise rather than...causing a few spark attacks for some and being mocked in disbelief by others.  (She was also there when that, along with a few other posts attempting to 'use memes like the memers did', went viral.  Unfortunately.  Or maybe very fortunately.  It was hard to rectify associated embarrassment with sheer schadenfreude at watching this.)</p><p>So yes, she was very present.  Not online itself (she really didn't want to bother getting an account just to watch her team get downvoted or mocked or whatever this platform did), but she certainly watched over their shoulders.  Her job was to make sure the team didn't do anything stupid- well, it was to clean them up after they did anything stupid- and so why not?  Even if it meant seeing Vos star in posts that got taken down not long after posting or watching Helex and Tesarus make impassioned duets with awkwardly plastered smiles or seeing the videos of fluffy organic pets being mimicked by Kaon's or (worst of all) <em> anything</em>, just anything, Tarn made.  He was so damned pleased with himself.  It was simultaneously the most painful thing she'd ever witnessed and the most entertainment she'd had in her life, and it left her with the sense that she needed to pack her bags and go into hiding if anyone ever got close to associating her with any of them.  </p><p>Nickel had long ago determined a few boundaries for herself in their regard.  Should the DJD ever decide to do anything exceptionally problematic, she could leave.  With a team like this, there was a lot of room for interpretation in a statement like that.  So, by ‘problematic’, she'd always vaguely considered the line crossed to mean some sort of pointless (as opposed to one she could understand sacrificing herself for; when surrounded by people [friends] who forgot to do simple things like clean cranial fluid out of their mouths or decided the supposedly superior nuke they had access to was a hunky dorey fun time, there was always a chance that something <em> stupidly suicidal </em> may not equate to <em> worthy sacrifice</em>) suicide run or something similar.  It was bad enough she let Tarn (and the others, but they were less concerning about it compared to Tarn) keep his nuke.  If the whole team was running towards inevitable idiotic death?  Well, Nickel might not feel a need to follow.  </p><p>This was far from a suicide mission, but it was a complete pain to witness.  Their carefully cultivated reputation twirling down a flushed drain...The DJD had spent centuries cultivating the most feared reputation among decepticon ranks outside of Lord Megatron himself.  They were shadow figures, urban legends.  Half the traitors they ran across didn't even know they were real until it was too late.  Outside of the occasionally semi-broadcasted snuff film, they remained shaded from view and yet real enough, terrifying enough, to keep the decepticons in line out of the <em> mere chance </em> that the infamous justice division genuinely existed.</p><p>So much for that.  They were going to have plenty of videos of themselves by the end of this if Tarn got his way and none of them were particularly horrifying.  Well, they were, but not in the intended manner.  She was plenty horrified by them.  And plenty amused.  The DJD was practically making its own smear campaign footage and they refused to see it.  So long as she didn't get dragged into it, Nickel wouldn't have to leave entirely.  It was a right shame, however amusing in the moment, to see them damaging their own hard work at creating a mysterious reputation, but she had no plans to let her own get ruined.  No sir.</p><p>Thus, when Tarn asked her if she wished to help him in one of his videos, the medic laughed at him and left the present company with that and a few choice gestures that rather enunciated that no, she did <em> not </em> wish to.  </p><hr/><p>In the meantime, far outside the reaches of the <em> Peaceful Tyranny, </em> over the vast boundaries of the extranet- whatever deities played with the popularity and failures of mortal media rolled their dice.  The machine that organized what fell into a successful algorithm and what was left to obscurity chugged along.</p><p>In layman terms, the extranet did what the extranet did: some things so outrageously uncool and try-hard couldn't acceptably fall into obscurity when they could instead become a meme of their own.  Perhaps it was a warning sign: perhaps these things became famous so that others would think twice before attempting to make content lest theirs become ingrown in pop culture synonymous to hilariously embarrassing in the thesaurus.  Perhaps it was just an example of the right of freedom for sentient beings to choose their ingrown schadenfreude over kindness.  Perhaps this was all overthinking a very simple thing.  </p><p>Honestly, it hardly matters <em> why</em>.  What is actually relevant is that it <em> was</em>.  </p><p>The game of shooty-shooty-bang-bang aboard the <em> W.A.P. </em>was paused so that they could watch a purple mask preach about the glory of "Towards Peace" through text bubbles and generic music and the "pov" of "misled autobots".  </p><p>Far from the scavengers, Starscream had framed up one of the many ironic memes made by some other (brave soul that would no doubt be on the List the moment Tarn realized they were not, in fact, praising him with the content) and made sure it was pinned on a wall where it'd be noticed.  </p><p>And try as he might, Prowl still hadn't determined what threat measurement to pin down for the video of a scrappy autobot cosplay being replaced by the palm of a purple hand being replaced by the leader of the decepticon justice division.  He hit replay once more, certain that some insidious code lay behind the video and the rambling english words on bad boys.  </p><hr/><p>They had succeeded.  They had indoctrinate the youth.  Or the cybertronian mind, at any rate.  Perhaps even the aliens that commented and reblogged now understood why they simply had to go.  Autobots could see their folly and defect.  Neutrals would understand the genius of the Cause and cease standing in the way of tyrannous peace.  Decepticons would be rejuvenated in their passion for the Cause.  Treason would be lower than ever.  The eyes of the populace had been opened.  Their own tools had been carefully and subtly used in order to spread loyalty.  </p><p>They had become a meme.  People reused their content, talked about it.  No doubt they had gotten their words dug deep enough into the collective psyche to gain this fame.  The Plan had Succeeded.  </p><p>Tarn listened over the rest as they wondered aloud whether or not their new "viral" status was a mile marker enough for the Cause to get a message of praise from Lord Megatron.  That was, of course, unlikely.  Serving the Cause was reward enough.  He would certainly not be adverse to it if said praise from said warlord did happen.  </p><p>Victory would have felt better if Nickel hadn't been insisting on withholding t-cogs unless he spent less time on a screen.  No matter how much he pointed her towards their success, the medic was an immovable object.  At least she hadn't attempted to cut off the ship's connection to the extranet.  Yet.</p><hr/>
<hr/><p><em> (It was with no small amount of frustration that, weeks later, landing for supplies had resulted in the DJD returning to a ship that had 'parental controls' blocking access to more entertaining sites and putting time caps on use that ended at "night".  They were a ship, for Megatron's sake.  They didn't have a </em> night <em> .  But they didn't have </em> parents <em> either and that logic hardly stopped a cocky Nickel who insisted on playing innocent about the whole thing until Tesarus and Kaon's mutual efforts finally got past the dreaded parental lock) </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy New Years!</p>
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